“I’m going to get even bigger.”
I brush my mouth over another just under her belly. “Good. It means our daughter is growing strong.”
Her eyes soften as she stares at me for a beat. “I like how you look at me when I’m pregnant,” she whispers.
Color rises in her cheeks, as if she didn’t mean to say that.
But I know what she means. I can’t stop looking at her like she’s mine. Like the entire world begins and ends with her. I could get lost in her sweet heat for the entire nine months she’s growing and I’ll still want to put another baby in her the moment she’s able to carry again.
“You’ve always been beautiful, Mia, but the way you look right now does something to me I can’t explain. I want to protect you even as I want to fuck you until you don’t know if you can take more.” Her lips part in a gasp and I kiss her belly, feeling our daughter shift beneath my mouth.
“I can’t believe she’s going to be here soon.” She threads her fingers through my hair as I continue to kiss and worship every inch of her bump.
“She’s going to be perfect, just like her mama.”
Mia rolls her eyes just a fraction. Just enough to let me know she’s not really pushing back. “She’ll be perfect, but I’m far from that.”
I grunt, giving my answer to that ridiculous statement. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
We lie in silence, comfortable between us, both of us feeling our daughter wiggling in Mia’s belly.
Eventually, she speaks again. “We need to think about the nursery.”
“Already taken care of.”
She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve got a designer coming over at the weekend. You tell her exactly what you want doing, pick out what furniture and colors you want, and she’ll make it happen.”
She blinks again. “You… You hired a designer?”
I shrug, kissing her belly again. “You were getting stressed about it, so I fixed it.”
She grips my hand, stilling it on the side of her bump. “I wasn’t stressed. I mentioned this morning that we should think about setting up the nursery, and you’ve already arranged a designer?”
I kiss her temple. “Of course I did. You’re not allowed to get stressed about anything. Not even for ten hours.”
She laughs, then turns serious. “I mean, her stuff will be in the nursery, obviously, but I want her to sleep at the side of the bed, where I can keep an eye on her. I don’t like the idea of her being too far away from us.”
My heart swells in a way I don’t expect. Knowing she loves our daughter this much already only adds the insane attraction I have for my wife.
“Then that’s where she’ll sleep.”
Mia snuggles into me, her bump pressed against my side. I love how it feels, how she feels. She’s soft in places she wasn’t before her pregnancy.
My wife.
My obsession.
My legacy.
All fucking mine.
TWENTY-ONE
MIA
I stareat the tiny onesie on the floor like it’s mocking me. It’s right there, two feet from me, but the chance of me bending down and getting back up is slim to none. I’m forty weeks and two days, the size of a blimp, and fucking miserable.
